Paris has Shrunk!

Walking around Paris today i kept getting hit by memories.

Hit directly in the solar plexus like a punch to the gut that winds you.

Painful pleasure.

Sauntering across le pont des arts in full summer sun today, the gilt on the Louvre winking in the sun's rays I get a flash back to a random moment of my heel getting lodged between the planks on the pont des arts walking home from the 5th in the very early hours of the morning.

I remember how cold it was that february morning and that there was not another soul on the bridge.

The memory flickers and I wonder; how many women has this happened to over the years?

It hits again as I walk by little cafe near metro St Paul;

I was meeting the man who was to become my Parisian lover for our first official 'date' and as he saw me emerge from the metro station, he jumped up from his table leaving all his belongings and ran across the road to me and embraced me on the street.

I felt as enamoured as that woman appears to be in the famous 'kiss' photograph by Robert Doisneau.

An anxiety trembles through me as i walk up to BATEAU CONCORDE ATLANTIQUE thinking;

'could love strike twice in the same place five years later?'

<>

Jumping off the metro at St Germain where I once found my guy all 'nino quincampoix' around the photo booth

and my heart started pounding just like Amelie's. Art imitates life and life in turn...

Walking aimlessly through the 6th on my way to Jardin du Luxembourg I'm hit again with the full body, deep cellular memory of a passionate kiss as I pass by the front of the Sorbonne, bien sûr

As I left the apartment this morning, feeling a little melancholy as I stuffed my headphones into my ears and just walked the streets.

Such a great thing to do in Paris.

Even walking the streets with a broken heart in Paris is somehow pleasurable.

I found myself near the Tuileries and remembered colette, a place where I had found some great music in the past.

History repeats as I find a 10 inch record in the small record bin

The 10 inch is a soft rose-pink sleeve, my colour,with large white text

" I was sad

then i bought this record

I still feel sad"

Comme un été à Paris

J'arrive!

God, it's so easy to be back here. So familiar, it just feels normal.

You know I love Paris. It's completely obvious.

If I could live back here again I would, in a heart beat - or the bat of a lash. Actually, which one is quicker?

The quartiers of Paris are distinct and different as you probably know.

When I lived there, I lived in the 8th. All fancy big apartments (except mine!) doctors & lawyers residences, l'Arc de Triomphe at the head of the street and parallel to the Champs-Élysées.

Don't even ask how I managed that, it's a whole different story.

I had friends in the 17th a much younger and edgier quartier and close to montmarte/pigalle, friends in the 11th le bastille, friends in the 10th where they have 2 miniature arc de triomphes and an explosion of Eastern and African immigrants, friends in the 6th - St Germain and 13th - china town, oh and a lover in the 5th.

If you haven't seen 'Paris Je T'aime', do - it gives a great lyrical insight into les quartiers. (and yes Dad, it is subtitled)

Oh and off topic see that Michel Gondry film with Charlotte Gainsbourg and Gael Garcia Bernal called La Science des rêves . just because its great.

This time around I'm staying with my gorgeous friend who has just moved into the 5 ème, le quartier latin.

An area I know well and is filled with romanticism for me on account of the great Parisian love affair I had there that summer.

I have been so excited to catch up with D on this trip. She's my partner in crime and our off-beat humour somehow manages to gel.

We have ridiculous fits of laughter and can discuss anything even if it doesn't technically exist yet, and then we laugh about it.

And sometimes we cry.

How great to have friendships that span the globe and weather the years to be able to see each other again and laugh so easily.

She's more French these days than British, I guess it's just crept up on her but each time I see her I notice the difference straight away.

Big changes have happened in her life and mine since we saw each other last.

AND it's her birthday just after I arrive, fresh start, new things. Play Time.

We are so ready for this summer, ready to laugh and play and slough off the old skin.

for info on les quartiers of Paris & the map above http://www.parisnet.com/parismap.html

...In the mood for love

I'm leaving Shanghai tomorrow for Paris.

A stash of beautiful dresses in my luggage and I'm channeling

Maggie Cheung's character in Wong Kar Wai's 'In the Mood for Love'...

This could get dangerous

Ni Hao!

NI HAO!

Shanghai...I loved it.

A curious city a-buzz with mad dash construction (with bamboo scaffolding, you understand), ancient buildings alongside art deco buildings, alongside state-of the-art high rises with whole sides of 30 story buildings projecting advertisements to those zipping by in pleasure boats on the Bund.

From Bali, with security guards in dark blue uniforms, heavy black polished boots, guns in holsters and a frangipani behind the ear to bustling Shanghai street culture. Steamy mid 30 degree heat, beep beep traffic, tree lined boulevards, creatively coloured double decker art deco homes, wooden carts on bitchumen roads being pulled by old men alongside silver Mercedes Benz. NI Hao!

I immediately get that 'rush' travellers often experience as you tap into a whole new world. Everything around is alien and interesting and fascinating and juxtaposed to your usual state of 'normal'.

I'm staying in a gorgeous house number 808 Changle St (shong-le lu) in the west French Concession area.

There are two entrances to 808. One access is by walking down a hutong, or lane way complete with scooters and bicycles potted plants and strings of washing hanging out to dry OR From the connecting cross street Changshu St (Shong shu lu) where a small buzzer on an imposing door must be pressed to alert the cafe staff of 'Closed Door' to come and let you in. 'Closed Door' cafe is an interesting concept and occupies the first floor of this house. You must make a reservation to eat here for breakfast, lunch or dinner and it can really only be found by word of mouth. There is no street signage or advertising for the cafe but I can attest to them making a mean breakfast as each morning's meal is complimentary to guests of the hotel. The food is all western influenced, which gave me a good start to the day of exploring Shanghai's culinary street culture.

www.quintet-shanghai.com/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hutong

The 'French Concession' as you might imagine has French style cafes with expansive terraces and familiar French names. Boulangeries and Patisseries, baguettes and tarte aux pomme, odd. Indochine, non? I even found street side creperies, well kind of creperies. One of my favourite street snacks was what looks like a crepe but is made from potato, like a potato pancake with shallots and seasoning sprinkled through out, they are sold by weight and depending on how much you want, cost about 1AUD. YUM! Someone told me once that potatoes had no nutritional value what-so-ever, a point to which I queried my traditional Chinese medicine studying, qualified acupuncturist, yoga teaching, massage therapist younger brother who swears they are one of the most vitamin packed vegetables around. So i don't know if my favourite Shanghai snack was even remotely nutritious or just a stodgy tummy filler. I did however by-pass the towers of raw chicken feet waiting to be barbecued in an array of sauces, nutritious or not and admired the 'china town' familiarity of roasted ducks strung up in windows. Steamed dumplings filled with pork and vegetables, or mixed spinach, onions & vinegar. Vinegar is popular on everything here, but honestly not once did i see a bottle of soy sauce on a lazy susan, or anywhere else here in Shanghai.

I was lucky enough to befriend an energetic ABC, (which is an anagram used for American born Chinese but, for me, works also for those born in Australia); who is accomplished in the 'Ninja Bat Arts' and the art of ordering and negotiating in mandarin. With this contact by our sides we were able to eat incredibly well and avoid what I imagine may have been disastrous digestive, cringing culinary moments.

For example, on an out-of-town excursion to a place called Anji, which houses the bamboo forest that was used in the filming of 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon', a group of us ate in the front room of a local's house who cooked for us from the family kitchen. Complete with chickens running around the yard and a well used chopping block out front we were led to a 'private room' ( the 'private room' appears to be a very popular status symbol here - I guess with billions of people the ultimate pleasure is privacy) with dusty dirty walls and plastic wrap over everything, oh and a piano. Of course?! 'Bat Ninja', thankfully, took complete control of the ordering procedure and rapid fired dishes at our host, who complied willingly and energetically took herself off to the kitchen to prepare our feast.

Aubergine and onion, fresh sautéed bamboo, dried and fried tiny whole fish (eeek), beef and chili, chicken something (fresh off the block - maybe not..) and yummy yummy little potato slices battered and lightly fried with vinegar and chili. No soy sauce!

I was cautious and tentative, I was a little nervous about climbing the bamboo forest mountain and having to defile it in any way other than my bad mandarin..

Xie Xie Superstar Bat Ninja and co!

*** white devil ***

The White Devil is deafened by the shrill of a million crickets,

as she winds her way around the snaking paths.

Old men stop their card games to stare,

and are disarmed by a nod and a smile

but only just.

Xie Xie Shanghai!

After signing a waiver form that i had no flu-like symptoms, lest I be the bearer of swine flu into China I stepped up to the Shanghainese customs checkpoint with my passport, late at night, tired and uncomfortable in that way you only get from long plane transits.

As I handed my documents over at the very clean and orderly checkpoint to a short man in smart uniform and cap I was given the option of critiquing my customs officials service.

There was a little electronic box in front of me with buttons and various emoticons; a smiley face, an ambivalent face or a sad face.

I looked at my guy, who was checking my visa without any kind of emotion and thought about it for a second.

Really, I was tired and over it as much as he seemed to be and felt ambivalent myself about the whole experience, then should I press the ambivalent button or just leave the poor guy alone?

Maybe communicating in Shanghai was not going to be as difficult as I expected?

I wondered if there were little electronic boxes everywhere that I could avoid offending people with my mandarin.

And I don't just mean offending people with the sound of my Australian accent trying to form Chinese, I mean actually offending people.

Before I left Australia I downloaded a Mandarin phrase guide onto my iPhone. I started by practising hello and thank you, you know the extreme basics.

The thing is because the only other language i speak even a little of other than English, is French and apparently there is some speech defect quadrant in my brain that switches on whenever I try out another language; it comes out with a French accent.

Which is embarrassing considering my French is so limited. But that it could be even more embarrassing than that surprised me, as i discovered with my Mandarin.

So, 'xie xie' is thank you in mandarin.

Just try to say that.

How does it sound?

Well, apparently i made up my own version, which sounded lovely and foreign to my ears where the 'xie' had more of a 'gzh-i' sound, you know, with a twist of French.

So i was saying it over and over 'gzh-i gzh-i', 'gzh-i gzh-i' a bit like how 'Gi Gi' would sound in French. 'Gi Gi', 'Gi Gi, 'Gi Gi'.

I tried my new word out on an employee of mine from Taiwan.

I watched her eyes widen in shock as soon as it came out of my mouth from my very proud looking face, before she recovered and very respectfully said "hmmm, um Jennifer what is it that you are trying to say?"

Mei Mei I'm saying thank you in Mandarin!

"ah, ok try like this;" where by she said Xie Xie and asked me to repeat til i had some semblance of it.

Satisfied, I asked her what she thought i was saying, and the reply came;

"Well Jen, actually, you were saying 'little boy's penis'"

...oh dear

So again, I hoped these little electronic boxes where everywhere, should come in handy with the taxi driver when i finally get out of the airport...

Desa Seni, Canggu, Bali Indonesia

My brother and I spent a week in Indonesia.

Deas Seni, Canngu, Bali to be exact.

We arrived just a day after the most recent fatal bombings in Jakarta, but could not have conceived of a more relaxed and safe haven as was Desa Seni for us. I felt a bit guilty being there and embracing the warm welcoming atmosphere, where they literally sound a large 'gong' when you enter the residence, when other foreigners had just been killed in the capital.

I spoke to one of the staff about the attacks here at Desa Seni about the bombings and he said 'It is terrible, but this happens here. 'What can I do but pray and live my life well and be happy to the people i meet?'

Which is about right too.

So we relaxed and embraced it...

All around us are living, breathing, photosynthesising things and clickity things; geckoes, crickets and various insects. The tick, tick ticking of men building and maintaining the gardens around us. For us two avid music lovers with our iPods and macbooks jammed full with music, we didn't turn them on til the very end.

As if the cacophony of village life was enough, that and the peace of our own silence.

We were, however, for two days and nights serenaded by ceremonial singing cascading across the rice paddy fields. A man's deep resonant voice singing devotional hymns, sometimes accompanied by drums and bells, floated around us from morning til late at night. It was the day before and the day of the Total Solar eclipse which I, of course, wanted to believe it had something to do with but our enquiries got us no further to finding out exactly what it was for.

Our day would begin either with a yoga class or breakfast. Breakfast being a bowl of mixed tropical fruit, a fresh pressed juice, a Balinese coffee or organic tea and then a hot dish, our collective favourite; the Telur Florentine. Two fresh farm eggs poached sitting on spinach from the garden that has been sautéed in garlic on top of whole wheat bread accompanied by two lightly grilled tomatoes, also plucked from the garden, sprinkled with more garlic and pesto made from the, you guessed it, basil grown in the garden.

This would always be brought to us, in our rumah wungsu by a Balinese man in his uniform of loose cotton trousers and t-shirt with a frangipani behind the ear and a warm smile wishing us a 'good morning' and to 'please enjoy our breakfast', and we believed them every time.

Our hut, rumah wungsu, is perched at the edge of the 'village resort' complex. We have a little grassed area out front with trees, a small flower garden sprouting bird of paradise and a statue of Ganesha who acts as protector of the property (she is aided by several burly security guards, who also wear frangipanis behind their ears). We look out over rice paddy fields that are tended daily and a new garden being built that already houses a few mango trees and small vegetable plots.

It felt, at the beginning of the week that it would go on forever. The days were sultry and long, sunshine and great food, stretching and napping. And then, suddenly it's over!

It is so strange the way that happens...

Every time we sat down to eat another amazing meal I would say 'How great is this food?! How good is this for us, I know I say it every time..but really, how great is this!'

And the little notes on our pillows each night. Different quotes every time;

"Wondrous is the strength of cheerfulness, and it's power of endurance

The cheerful man will do more in the same time, will do it better, will preserve it longer, than the sad or sullen."

Thomas Carlyle

Which is not dissimilar to our waiter's quote that I'm personally going to run with;

'What can I do but pray and live my life well and be happy to the people i meet?'

check it out: www.desaseni.com

pretzel practice

I was reminded of a past lover of mine today as i twisted my legs around each other, standing up but with knees bent into a half seated position while my arms crossed and twisted in front of me was supposed to gracefully represent an eagle.

Sounds more kinky than it is, really.

Eyes set to a point of focus in the near distance to help me balance I really tried to see how this could look like an eagle. I don't believe i achieved the intended grace of this bird of prey but i may well have represented a more common snack food; the pretzel. And it seems to fit, as i am planning my first trip to New York and on my 'to do list' besides finding a new, energetic lover, is to eat a salty pretzel from a street vendor.

Condensation gathered between my elbows, a combination of the tropical heat and physical exertion made the creases in my limbs slippery. I pressed my twisted palms tighter together trying to avert my body's desire to unwind into a more familiar position. Which is when the giggle started to build, not only am i now physically representing the pretzel but actually, I'm gonna taste like one too. And there it comes, the giggle is out the 'pretzel practice' comment of a former lover making complete sense, I achieve a kind of serenity, an understanding, as i unwittingly burst the concentration of those around me.

I eventually regain composure, just in time for 'shivasana' or 'corpse pose' an asana that traditionally ends a yoga session. It's actually more difficult than you might imagine, lying flat on your back after stretching intensely and trying to find that space of 'nothingness'. The instructor taking this class is talking us through a relaxation technique by encouraging us to focus on one body part at a time, from our toes all the way up the body. Increment by increment, until we get to the head and face, relaxing the cheek muscles, the jaw and the forehead. Then she asks us to relax our 'hair follicles' and i get the giggles again.

'That's perfect!' I think to myself. I am going to, throughout this trip, 'check in with myself' from time to time and see how much I can relax my hair follicles over the journey...

ca commence

"It is not in the stars to hold our destiny, but in ourselves." William Shakespeare.

It is however, easy to see life in a slightly more profound way when you begin an adventure.

I just quit my job.

It was a good job and I'm sure i was pretty good at it. The role kind of grew as I grew, to a point evidently.

And when that point arrived I did the only thing I felt i could do; I went to a travel agent and enquired as to how it was that 'Around the World' tickets worked.

I am fortunate enough, at the moment, to have a bunch of really great friends in countries all over the world. Warm, fun, expressive people carving out lives for themselves in foreign lands that I want to reconnect with. The lands and the people.

Sound is important to me.

Music is vital to me.

I spend money on music & concerts the way other women would spend money on fashion and hairdressers.

Actually, i do have a pretty styling wardrobe but i get more excited about tunes than tutus.

So it may sound strange the significance i put into this next statement, but what brings a sense of the profound to one is different to another.

The moment i had some kind of inner clarification that i was 'doing the right thing' by quitting my job and purchasing a 'round the world ticket' was when I came to hand over my credit card at the travel agent.

It was the third time I'd been into this particular agent after ditching my first one, to put the structure and detail into the faint notion I'd had of visiting my friends in an westerly direction across the globe.

This Saturday morning was cold and drab and i was the only customer in the agency with three other agents doing web searches for places they'd rather be, when one of the girls slides her chair back and announces that she is going to put the radio on to help pass the time.

I'd never heard music played in there before, or any other travel agency, come to think of it.

And there it was, as I handed over my credit card with a deep breath the familiar reverb synth line of Daft Punk's 'Around the World'. I laughed, well I kind of choked and guffawed actually and my agent stopped processing my payment and asked "Is there something wrong?"

"No, no not at all I just can't believe this song is on the radio right now - I mean can you believe they're playing Daft Punk Around the World right now!?"

The agent, probably unsurprisingly. looked at me as though I was on the edge of crazy.

As I said, the sense of the profound differs for different people.

But it wasn't just the name of the song that hit the profound button for me, it was also the fact that my soon to be previous employer used to detest Daft Punk and we would get into arguments all the time about the relevance of electronic music to the point where he would challenge my argument with something as weighted as;

"How can you call what your "mates" Daft and Punk do music??

I mean there's NO guitars!!"